Streetlight Scotch-Colored Eyes
by Socrates7727
Summary: After five months away at college, Stiles returns to heartbreaking news. He sets out to find Derek because he has to make things right-and finds him. One-shot. Mild Derek/Stiles. Rated T for swearing.


Author's Note: A little more angsty than the norm but I still hope you like it!

Disclaimer I do not own Teen Wolf, its characters, or anything associated with it.

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Five months into college and Stiles was officially a grown-up. Of course, it wasn't very grown-up of him to still call it a grown-up. He was an adult. Yes, a fully functioning, life-discovering, college-educated (well one semester college-educated) adult.

At least in theory.

Last he'd heard, Scott and his dad were placing bets on how long it took him to start acting like a teenager again. Scott was at two days. His dad was at two hours. It was wonderful to be supported by friends and family.

"Where to, kid?" The cabbie seemed nice enough-not the creepy kind that usually stalked airports waiting for victims-so Stiles got in and hauled his duffel bag in beside him.

"2307 Weekley Ave."

"Beacon Hills?"

"Beacon Hills." Stiles sat in silence for the majority of the ride, still half asleep from the flight. The driver got bored after a few minutes and turned on the radio. Thank god it wasn't some weird polka music. For now, at least, it was just soft classics from the seventies and eighties and Stiles actually liked it because it was the kind of music his dad always played around the house.

"Sorry kid but no AC. If you get hot we can roll down the windows, yeah?" He nodded yeah, making sure the driver saw it in the mirror. Silence again.

The ride in from the airport was long but uneventful and Stiles knew from experience it was impossible not to get lost in your own head on it. So he didn't fight it, he dove right it. He was excited to see his dad and Scott and Melissa and he'd missed them a lot. Lydia and Jackson were a solid 50/50 mix and it would be good to see them but he wasn't in a rush. The person he was most anxious and excited to see was Derek. Even though it was horrible.

Unlike he and Scott had hoped, his time away from Beacon Hills had not alleviated Stiles tiny, inconvenient crush in the slightest. College boys were not all they cracked up to be, in the end. College girls were better friends than girlfriends, usually, and that didn't leave must else for Stiles to focus on except school. Which, arguably, was good-but it got old. It was weird but what he really missed were Derek's eyes.

He sounded like a teenage girl. Was it weird? Or was it natural and just some werewolf voodoo Stiles couldn't have helped if he tried? Either way, he missed them. Everyone always said they were brown but they weren't. Stiles had spent many, many hours-probably too many hours if he was being honest-examining those eyes trying to find just the right words to describe them. Was it normal for people to get that obsessed with details like that? Probably not but he didn't care.

After four years of knowing Derek Hale, Stiles had finally found the perfect description. It was ironic that he hadn't figured it out until he left for college and it was also kind of pathetic once he told the story but it was perfect. His second week into his first fall quarter, he'd gotten lost. Washington was wet, he learned, and it was no exception that fall. There were puddles all over the ground and he'd stepped in so many it wasn't even funny, just annoying.

At the time, he'd thought he'd known his way around and was confident he took a left on Charcoal Street to get back to his dorm. Later, he learned it was, in fact, Roosevelt he turned on and it was a right. Regardless, it'd been late and starting to get dark so he'd followed his gut instinct and turned down Charcoal. The dorms didn't look right but he'd kept going, saying he was just imagining it.

He'd heard footsteps behind him.

Every lecture he'd ever gotten on college safety and rape prevention and stranger danger came pounding back to him in shocking clarity. More footsteps. He'd quickened his pace, hoping for a familiar building up the block or at least an alley he could turn down and hide in. No such luck and the footsteps quickened into a run, getting closer. Stiles had began to run.

Convinced he was facing death or rape, he'd been blinded by fear and darted down the first side path he found just to get away from the footsteps. He'd ducked down behind a bush and tilted his head back with his mouth open. That was how you breathed silently, his dad had taught him. His heart pounding, he'd waited behind the bush scarcely breathing until he saw his murderer-a young woman in running shorts and a tanktop. A jogger.

He'd called himself an idiot and swore at himself. But, once he'd caught his breath, he'd stood and looked around to actually see where he was. What he'd mistaken for trash in the darkness had actually been small flower beds and what looked like a dumpster turned out to be a trellis with flowering vines draping over it. It'd been a little alley garden.

While it'd been beautiful, he'd been desperate to get back to his dorm so he didn't linger. Walking back out, he'd stopped short. He'd been wrong but for a split second he saw Derek's eyes and, with them, Derek's face staring up at him and it had made his breath catch. Recovering, he'd stepped closer.

It ended up being a puddle of rainwater on the dark cobblestone, turned a warm brown with the glow of a nearby streetlight. It was like a cherry oak kind of brown mixed with a dark, rich alcohol. Like scotch. And, from that moment on, Derek's eyes were known not as brown, but as streetlight scotch.

"Hey, kid, might want to roll the window down it's an oven in here and traffic's gonna be a bitch." Stiles did, not wanting to argue or really even converse after being pulled out of his thoughts. And they were beautiful thoughts… No! He wasn't allowed to have a crush on Derek still.

Speak of the devil.

It couldn't be! But it was. Derek was standing near the street up ahead, looking disinterestedly at the line of barely-moving cars and then going back to his book. The old bookstore that had been there since before Stiles was born was having a sale. There were sun-baked shelves rolled out onto the sidewalk. Books of every variety were marked with bright orange and yellow stickers, clearance signs hanging on the end of every shelf.

Of course Derek looked like a Greek god just holding a book. It wasn't even a hardcover but it didn't matter-something else was hard enough to make up for it. No! Bad Stiles! They were getting closer now, creeping up beside where the wolf was standing, and Stiles knew he'd catch his scent soon.

"Nice choice, sourwolf!" Derek jumped, nearly dropping the book. For the split second Stiles wasn't surprised by the reaction, he was proud-he'd finally gotten the drop on Derek Hale. A flash of recognition in Derek's face and Stiles was hopeful. But then, like he was suddenly allergic to something, Derek coughed and clamped his hand over his mouth. Something similar escaped again, this one more choked, and Stiles was going to ask what was wrong but Derek was gone. He wasn't even surprised.

All that because of one call? Derek couldn't still be mad at him about that, could he? It didn't matter, Stiles still felt guilty for it anyway and nothing could really change that. As thrilled as he'd been to pick up his phone after a hard study session and see a missed call from Derek, he'd just sighed. It'd been finals week. He'd been running on E-empty not ecstasy-for as long as he could remember and barely had the mental capacity to spell his own name, let alone talk to Derek. Besides, it wasn't like he'd intentionally dodged the call.

And maybe he could've seen Derek holding a grudge about that if he hadn't tried to make up for it. He'd texted Derek asking what was up as soon as he got the call. No response. Over the course of ten days-all during finals week, even-he'd texted Derek a record twelve times and called twice. So maybe he was guilt ridden after all. But it didn't matter because Derek still hadn't responded even once. What did he have a right to be mad about anyway?

"Sorry kid, you hit the sweet spot for commuter traffic. We're gonna be here a while. Anything on your mind?" It was true. From the looks of it, they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. The driver had been nice enough and nothing but polite this entire trip, Stiles reasoned, despite him being an antisocial college student. Ah, what the hell? It couldn't hurt to make conversation.

"Yeah, any chance you know what was up with him?" Forgetting the driver couldn't see him, Stiles gestured over his shoulder towards the bookstore. He couldn't get over the second cough he'd heard. Had it been a cough? It was ridiculous to think it was anything else but if Stiles let his imagination run with it-and when did he ever not?-it began to sound more and more in his head like a choked sob. But that was insane.

"You mean the Hale kid?" So he didn't know Derek. It was a long shot anyway, not many people knew Derek that weren't related to him or in the pack.

"Yeah, the Hale kid." Slowly, the cabbie turned the radio down and sighed. Had more rumors been spreading? Had Peter fucked something up again?

"I never knew him kid, but my gut says he probably isn't coping well." Stiles was instantly listening. Coping? What the hell was that supposed to mean? What did Derek have to cope with? Had Beacon Hills found out about the pack and about Derek's alpha drama? That wasn't possible. But what the hell else could it be?

"Woah, easy there. One question at a time." Oops. He hadn't even realized he was interrogating the driver like the guy was a website caught in the path of a research binge.

"Sorry." And he was; it didn't make sense to him why the idea of Derek having something to cope with made his stomach drop or his heart so panicky. "Coping with what?"

"The fire of course." Wait what? Stiles heart was racing suddenly and the only thing his brain can scream at him is _what fucking fire!?_ He couldn't really breathe, suddenly. Because he realized that, if this cab driver knew about it, then it had to be a pretty big deal. Oh god. Derek had to be okay, right?

"What fire." Stopped at a light, the cabbie turned in the seat to look at him. There was a weird sort of detached pity in the guy's face and Stiles decided he really, really didn't like it. Derek was okay, he had to be. Stiles had literally just seen him a few minutes ago and he'd looked fine. It was probably just another accident.

"You must've been gone a while, kid.: Stiles didn't shake his head or nod, he just silently begged for his explanation. "About a month back there was a fire at that huge house up the hill-the Hale house. Killed eleven people and two more died in the hospital." No. No that wasn't possible. That wasn't fucking possible! Thirteen dead!? Talia, Cora, Laura, Peter... That was the whole damn family! They were wolves for god's sake they couldn't just die like that!

"You're lying." The cabbie shook his head, sighing. Who the hell was this guy to tell him this!? Why hadn't he heard it from Scott or his dad or someone other than the damn cab driver who picked him up?!

"I know, it's rough. Poor kid is the only one left." No! No it wasn't true! It couldn't be true! Something that huge would've reached him by now! This was just some sick joke the driver was playing on him!

But it wasn't. Already, Stiles' mind was running with it. But why the actual fuck had they kept this from him!? His dad he understood because even if it was misguided the Sheriff had always tried to protect him. But Scott!?

"This is your stop, kid." Stiles chucked the fare onto the front seat and hurled his duffle bag into the driveway. Before the driver could even say anything, Stiles slammed the door and was storming towards the front door. How could Scott keep this from him?! He of all people knew how much Derek meant to him and how big of a deal this was for the pack!

"Hey! Stiles! Welcome ba-"

"You bastard!" At the yelling, his dad and Melissa emerged from the kitchen and their faces fell instantly. Scott stood, stunned, in front of him.

"How dare you!" he continued. "How dare you not fucking tell me! You know how much Derek means to me and you know how important pack is! Who the fuck are you to decide what I get to know, Scott?!"

"Stiles, honey," But not even Melissa was safe anymore.

"And you two! It's not like you're any better! You both know how much pack means to me and you kept it from me! Why the hell did you all keep it from me!?" His dad was the one who stepped up when Stiles stopped to breathe. The fucking nerve of these people.

"Stiles, that's why we didn't tell you." Oh hell no!

"You didn't tell me because of what!? Because of pack!? Do you not think I'm pack anymore?! Is that it!? You all know how much Derek means to me and I can't believe you would do this just because you don't approve! I know it's bad but shit! He's lost everything! Oh god, Derek…"

"That's why," his dad answered. "Because we knew the second you found out you'd go looking for Derek. Nevermind that he doesn't want to be found." Stiles felt tears welling up and clenched his gut to keep them inside. This wasn't the damn time. They all could go to hell and never tell him anything ever again. Derek… Derek had lost everyone. A month ago-shit! The call! Derek had called because… And he hadn't answered.

"I need to find Derek." He was out the door before any of them could protest and running for his jeep. And he didn't have the fucking keys. Dammit! He didn't care, he ripped open the panel beneath the steering wheel and hotwired her. The jeep was his baby but he'd fix it later. Right now, he needed to find Derek.

Scott tried to chase him down but Stiles didn't give a care about traffic laws right now and lost him within the first few minutes. He didn't know where to go to find Derek. Somehow going to the Hale house-now the old Hale house-seemed wrong even though Derek had lived there most of the time he'd known him. Damn why couldn't he remember!?

There was an apartment. But fuck where was it?! Stiles couldn't remember he just drove until his foot stopped pressing the gas. Maybe instinct knew where Derek was. He got in the elevator and pressed seventeen but none of this felt remotely familiar. It didn't matter he was running on emotion and he could feel Derek somewhere hurting and needing him.

Since when did Derek need him?

Stiles almost let himself go back on it because when the hell had Derek ever seemed to want to accept help from him? Wasn't this just some fantasy he was playing out? But then he remembered the call and he started to jog down the hall. 17D. He remembered that-D for Derek. Before it connected in his mind, his fist was pounding on the door.

"Derek! Open the door!" Stiles wasn't sure how or if at this point he was just hallucinating and would wake up in Eichen House but he also didn't really care-he could feel Derek inside the apartment.

"Open the damn door!" He pounded it again and heard something like a sob inside but Derek didn't open it. Screw it. Stile yanked the knob and pushed.

It opened!

That was certainly a first and maybe Derek had left it unlocked for him but now wasn't the time to think about any of that. The door slammed behind him and someone sucked a breath to the right.

Stiles barged through the only door that went to the right and found a bedroom, the bed pushed into one corner and the blinds down. It was dark but he didn't need to see to know it was Derek. It was Derek who was curled into a ball in the corner of the bed, sobbing. His heart wrenched into his throat.

"Der, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He was crying too and he hadn't even realized it. For a brief second he reconsidered but at this point it was all or nothing and Stiles was all in. Up on the bed, he threw himself at the wolf and hugged him as a tight as he could, making Derek choke back another sob. God that hurt to hear.

"Let- Go!" But Stiles said no and hugged him harder. "Leave me alone, Stiles!" But hell if that wasn't familiar. He'd yelled the same thing at his dad after his mom had died. It didn't matter, he wasn't leaving Derek.

"No, you called and I'm answering." He closed his eyes into the hug, feeling the heaving of Derek's chest against his own and the trembling of broad, werewolf hands. Suddenly, it was like something inside Derek snapped and he did a complete 180. When Derek hugged him back, Stiles choked back a sob of his own.

God he was such a horrible person. Derek had called him after literally losing his entire family-Derek had reached out to _him_ -and Stiles had ignored it because of a stupid test. He could only imagine how much that hurt and the guilt made him want to throw up. But that wasn't important it was about Derek right now and he ran his hands through the wolf's tangled brown hair and pulled his head to his shoulder. Tears quickly soaked into his sweatshirt but he didn't care. It was Derek's tears.

Shit! Alright apparently Derek was more comfortable with Stiles than he'd thought. Taking in a deep breath, Derek pulled him into his lap and buried his face in Stiles' shoulder like a little kid. It made his chest ache, but it also stirred something in Stiles. An instinct he wasn't used to that urged him to reach out and pull Derek closer, to smooth his hair, to whisper reassurances, to cuddle into his chest and trace his face until he fell asleep. Where the hell did that come from?

"Stiles-" Streetlight scotch rings filled with tears met his as Derek pulled away enough to see his face. "I need-" What? What did Derek need? To be alone? For his whole family to not be dead?

"What, Der?" Trembling against him, the werewolf winced and hide his face in Stiles sweatshirt again.

"I need you." His heart shattered but he pulled Derek into the tightest hug he could physically manage and squeezed. Derek broke down into muffled sobs again but Stiles couldn't blame him. Everyone he loved was dead. God Derek must've felt so alone this past month! And Stiles had had the nerve to ignore him.

"I'm here, Der, you've got me." Stiles didn't dare tell him it was okay or that everything would be alright but the reassurance he did offer seemed to help. Derek's sobs reduced to painful little whimpers. Slowly, the wolf-the alpha, now-sank into Stiles until they were lying among the mess of blankets and sheets.

"You've got me, Der. I'm so sorry about before but you've got me. You called and I'm answering. I'm here." Whimpers gave way to jagged breathing and then to shallow, sighing breaths. With Derek asleep, Stiles finally had to the emotional capacity to sob his damn eyes out. Strangely, though, it didn't hurt as much as it usually did. Maybe because the guilt finally wasn't weighing on him? Or maybe because the man he was desperately in love with had just shown him more trust and vulnerability in the last hour than in the last four years and Stiles was about to fall asleep with him? Whatever the reason, it wasn't the violent emotional crying he was used to. This crying was softer, sadder, and it lulled him to sleep with his arms still wrapped tightly around Derek.

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